


The Dark

by Eliahst (EPaXLeo)



Series: Lonely With The Lights Off [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, Pre-asexual Relationship, Stalker-like behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 21:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EPaXLeo/pseuds/Eliahst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are the dark, and you are very lonely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark

You are unbelievably old, beyond measuring. You are the original monster, and the reason children own night lights. You are the hollow-eyed, long-faced, gangly-limbed nightmare that hangs in the subconscious of ever sapient being on the planet. You are all of these and more. You have brought existence to every lesser form of terror, but the gestation of these new nightmares brings a terrible ache. A hollow sensation, beginning the moment the new horrors begin to take shape within you, that does not dissipate for a great deal of time. It is loneliness, paralyzing and absolute. None of your children will consider you; it is not within their nature, and you are proud of that. You have made them perfectly: without sympathy or empathy, without fear or trepidation, and without care for suffering not your own.  
  
You like to call yourself God.  
  
Of course, you are not God. It is just a fitting name for one who creates, and the implications of such a name make you laugh through the inaccuracies. It is one of the few options for humor you have. Being the ultimate terror is a job, though self-employed, and it is grueling. The screams stopped being entertaining millennia, and when the hunts for you stopped along with the murders in your name. No one calls on you to make deals anymore. You are utterly alone. It makes your skin burn every instance that you go without company.  
  
The time of new horrors strengthens this loneliness more than you can bear. This is the only time you leave your empty home, in search of one of those long-time victims, those men, to keep you company. When the Time ends, you leave the horrors with your companion, to teach the horrors their real nature, but you leave a mark on those companions.  
  
You spend years of their time by their side, and though you abandon all of them as soon as your kin are breathing, you do not want to see them torn apart by your spawn the moment you leave. You love them all, each with great intensity, and you cannot bring yourself to leave them to their fates. When they finally pass, what they become in death is a perfect remnant of how they were when you left them. For them, it is only a year or two before they see you again, but you spend decades alone. They will never understand the enthusiasm you hold when you see them again. They will never know that you have watched their entire lives from that point, with all of their struggles and fears and failures, and wished you had reason to find them again. No, at the end of your Times you are pulled back to your empty palace of silence and shrieks, and you rage and destroy the empty landscape until they are with you again.  
  
Though when they first solidify into your home it is with the time of joyous reunion, as they realize that although they gained you, they are robbed of all the loved ones they hoped to meet in death. That they you have stolen their entire lives from them. That they will never remember getting married, or the birth of their children or anything remotely good that happened to them after you left. They demand to be let go, to have their lives back in death, to be away from _you_.  
  
And because you love them, you release them. It pains you worse than any torture, but you sever your ties and destroy your mark. None of them ever return.  
  
That Time has come again now, and you feel the loneliness more than any time before. You resign yourself to another painful affair and leave your chambers. The world of men had changed in the last century, which gives reason to the new generation of terrors you can feel stirring into being within you, and now there are so many men, and all of them so different. You can barely recognise the signs of a worthy companion on this whirlwind of false lights and tiny devices. But you find him, nestled into a crevice of letters and lies, speaking to masses with helpful words that give no aid. You watch him for days before you send the messengers, and a torn smile contorts your face when he gives them a casual greeting. You see him mock the suffering of others along with his own and you know that he is perfect.  
  
He will leave you, just like the others, but you will covet him all the same. He will be yours, and you will tear through anyone who even thinks of taking him as their own.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I have no idea where I'm going with this.


End file.
